


Cup Of Sugar

by LazyCakes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College Student Pidge, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Modern AU, Other, Sugar Daddy, non-binary Pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10187138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyCakes/pseuds/LazyCakes
Summary: Needs create a mutual agreement. But what happens when both sides want more than they agreed to, but cannot admit that?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I jokingly told my friend while hiding in his bookshelf that I was going to get a sugar daddy just to pay college tuition and he laughed.
> 
> Well, I'm serious, Nixx, and now you've been projected onto Lance <3
> 
> Anyway yeah my tumblr is forgottenwoundsartist and I'll be posting art from this fic there

“Pidge, how on earth can you be so desperate? You've got  _ more  _ than a full-ride!”

They adjusted their glasses before responding, not looking at Lance. 

“I just need money, fast, and a minimum-wage job won't cover it. So: do you have any ideas, or are you just going to look at me like that?”

Pidge pulled their leg up into the shelf with them.

They were sitting in Lance and Hunk’s bookshelf, a textbook in their lap, looking down at Lance in his chair as Hunk moved around in the kitchen to their left. 

For the three, this was a typical afternoon; finish their shared two o’clock physics class, come back to Lance and Hunk’s dorm, and finish homework while getting  _ way  _ too into personal information. 

It's just what best friends do. 

“You need money? Pidge, you could probably be a stripper. You're already part-timing lingerie, aren't you?”

Hunk bustled through the doorway to the kitchenette sideways, a bowl of Chex mix in hand. He held it up as Pidge leaned down, grabbing a handful. 

“You're funny. I can barely walk without tripping; how the hell would I strip? Plus, it's not part-time. I quit modeling nearly a month ago. Photographers aren't fans of waiting for you to wrestle a binder off, unsurprisingly.”

Lance snorted, but he didn't look up from his notebook. He reached out and took the bowl from Hunk, popping a pretzel into his mouth. 

“I still don't get how you've managed to need more money already. You could get a roommate?”

Pidge made a face.

“Not a chance.”

Hunk flopped onto Lance’s futon comfortably, but with enough force that it shook Pidge’s bookshelf spot. 

“Okay, I won't pretend to know why you need money, but I honestly don't have an easy and fast answer other than going back to modeling.”

“I cut my hair--the agency would never take me back now.”

“Just get a sugar daddy.”

Lance garbled through his mouthful of Chex, flopping backwards. He winked airily. “‘Course, if you can find one not interested in anything too weird.”

Pidge didn't answer, instead pulling open their laptop. 

“Pidge, I was just kidding!”

 

But it was too late. With a steely glint in their eyes, Pidge shoved their glasses further up their nose and continued typing. 

“I can use my modeling pictures for a profile…”

“Yo, Pidge, it was a joke. That’s a really dangerous part of the web.”

“Uh, Pidge, better idea--just wait until the end of the month and your allowance gets sent in?”

Hunk stood again, peeking nervously at Pidge’s screen. 

“Here, look; this website will let me give specific guidelines of what I'm interested in. I don't have to sign up for anything sexual.”

“Pidge…”

“It's free for a week. I'll just give it a shot; let's be honest, how many people are out there on sugar daddy websites looking to pay for someone to literally fake date?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You _need_ a date, Shiro!”

“Correction; you _want_ me to have a date so we don't look weird. I don't _need_ anything. Except maybe for you to pass me that mould.”

 

Allura gave an exasperated sound, but handed him the plaster-and-hemp mass anyway.

“It's a black-tie event, Shiro, and with the business we run, there's no way you _can't_ have a partner. It's a posterity thing; don't you want people to think your products are helpful?”

“My relationship status has nothing to do with the success of our products, Allura.”

The woman crossed her arms, looking down at the man in a stained t-shirt and ripped sweatpants, trying to pry open his mould with a screwdriver and hammer. At least a dozen other successful moulds were open and stacked on the table next to him in bright, swirling colors, and three times that were stacked up in boxes near the door, ready to be shipped out.

“Clearly.”

“Why don't we just go _together_?”

“Because I already have a date. A fake one, anyway; I begged your brother.”

Allura combed through her hair with her fingertips, waiting for Shiro to look up again. Instead, he gave a grunt, and the mould made a _pop_.

“Keith would never go to an event like this unless you bribed him.”

“I absolutely bribed him; by the way, keep an eye out, because he's got a new motorcycle to play with.”

Shiro didn't look up from his work, and Allura was disappointed. She was hoping for a bigger reaction.

“I don't need a date, Allura.” Shiro paraphrased, “I don't want one, there's nobody I'm interested in.”

“Just fake it, Shiro. Please?”

“I've got less than a week, Allura. I'm not going to find someone to fake date in a _week_.”

“You'll find a way. Please, Shiro; you can't go alone.”

 

With a taught snap, the mould cracked open, and Shiro turned up to his coworker, wiping his hand on his shirt.

 

“I'll do what I can.”


	3. Chapter 3

_ Speed dating websites _

 

Shiro paused, hands still on the keyboard. He shook his head, and emptied the search bar.

 

_ Sugar daddy dating sites _

 

He grimaced, but hit enter anyway. 

 

There were only four days left to get a date, and he had quickly discovered that real-life dating was absolutely useless in such a short amount of time. This seemed to be his best (last) option.

 

He clicked the first result, too disgusted to even read the name of the site. 

 

The top of the page was pink and frilly as hell, and Shiro’s expectations dropped even more, if possible. He scanned over the site as quickly as possible. 

 

There was a small, continually-scrolling set of photos along the bottom of the page, profile photos, with the caption  _ New Babies _ ! and the exact time they had joined. 

 

God, he felt perverted just  _ looking _ at this. 

He let the photos scroll as he tried to hide part of his face in his metallic hand, when a new profile began to cross the screen. 

 

Before he knew what he had done, he scrambled to click on it. 

 

The photo was of a person’s back, which was not only odd, but the most attractive back Shiro had ever seen. 

Their waist was thin, but not pinched, and rested between curved hips and beautiful shallow shoulder blades. Their frame was willowy, but still somehow strong, and they had their hands slightly extended, showing off delicate, thin wrists and hands. Their hair was braided, and pulled over one shoulder, so he couldn't really see how long it was, but the simplicity and elegance of the photo compelled Shiro to scroll through a few more before even reading their profile. 

If this person could fake being half as elegant as that photo in real life, he was ready to make an account then and there. 

 

The next photo made him completely forget any of his previous perverted queasiness. The person was wearing only underwear, which should  _ not  _ have been as classy as it was. 

Their frame was still lovely and soft and thin, but they were sitting in a windowsill, and the photo captured only the smallest amount more than a silhouette. Their breasts were quite prominent, but not excessive, and were held in place by a balconette bra made of a sea foam green lace. They were wearing large over-ear headphones, and their hand was holding the green-lighted disc in place, obscuring their face, but catching those lovely hands in the light. 

There seemed to be a cup of tea on the sill next to them, a spoon resting inside, and one of their legs hung down towards wooden flooring. 

Almost greedily, he clicked to the next photo. 

 

They were in the same sill, but on the other side, with a flat chest and a lace handkerchief hanging lazily from the limp hand. The headphones were down around their neck, and the spoon was hanging lazily from their mouth. 

 

Shiro was shockingly envious of the person behind the camera of these photos, he thought as he moved on. 

 

Either they were the world’s smallest person who was not a dwarf, or they were laying in the world’s largest bed.

Either way, they were surrounded by a puffy white comforter, laying in the center of tastefully folded wrinkles, their wrists crossed above their head, and their cheek resting on their upper arm. Their face was serene, and their eyes were open, inquisitive, but restful. Their nose was like a little fairy’s, and their jawline followed suit. They had the smallest pout, and the freckles dotted across their cheeks made tiny golden constellations. Shiro could only see about half of their face, with the rest pressed against their arm. Their legs were pulled up, and their feet were pointed-- in pointe. 

They had soft green pointe shoes laced carefully against their ankles. Could they actually dance ballet? 

 

Shiro hoped so; he couldn't dance at all!

 

He clicked over to the next picture. 

 

They were fully clothed and fully in frame, but their face was still obscured behind a handheld gaming system. They didn't seem to know the camera was there; they were lounging in an overstuffed leather chair, tucked into themselves neatly. 

 

There was a little green alien on their sweater, and they were wearing high tops with galaxies printed on, skinny jeans cuffed halfway up their calves. 

 

Shiro looked down at his own star-printed sweater. 

 

That was all the convincing  _ he  _ needed. 

 

He left the photo gallery and glanced over the profile description. 

 

_ Name: Pidge _

_ Age: 19 _

_ Size: Whut _

 

_ I'm just a college student trying to earn some extra cash. I don't do weird crap, and I'm not interested in a serious relationship or anything like that. If you like talking about aeronautics, astrology, or anything to do with technology, you've got my interest. I know how to handle myself in professional and casual settings, even if I'm a bit anxious. I suppose if you're interested in someone who's only there for looks, I can do that quite well, too.  _

_ I’m somewhere in the middle, but if you prefer someone who is overtly masculine or overtly feminine, just let me know. I can do either. I'm rather flexible ;) _

 

Shiro laughed softly. 

 

Well, he was sold. 

 

Setting up an account was almost concerningly easy; they didn't even ask for his age after he clicked the ‘Daddy’ option. The site tried to make him list interests and match him to other people, but he had only signed up for this ‘Pidge’ profile, so he skimmed as quickly as he could, filling most of the answers with keyboard smash and finishing as quickly as he could. 

 

He found Pidge’s profile again and sent an interest, and then immediately went back to fix his own profile page, hoping they wouldn't check in before he was done. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Pidge, your computer made a sound.”

“Already? It's been fifteen minutes!”

Pidge scrambled back into the living area, swiping their laptop away from Lance and plopping onto his lap. 

“What is it?” Hunk called from the other room. 

“Pidge’s profile’s poppin’.”

“It's just one response.” 

They argued as Lance pulled them further into his lap, tucking his head onto their shoulder. “And...it's...it looks like a bot?”

Pidge cocked their head to the side. 

 

The profile they had clicked on had a serious profile photo, a serious short description, and the rest was completely unintelligible. 

 

_ Name: Takashi Shirogane _

_ Position: Co-Owner/CEO of personal business _

_ Net Worth: I don't own a net _

 

_ I have a formal ceremony coming up quickly, and need a plus one. I'm not looking for anyone interested in anything serious; no strings attached. I just need somebody who can fake being a high-class member of the business front for a single night. Brownie points if you know how to dance. I can guarantee at least nine times minimum wage, which, by the way, is about as much as I earn an hour, too. No strings attached, I swear.  _

 

“Well, that's pretty much exactly what you were looking for, right?” Lance crunched his mouthful of Chex Mix right next to Pidge’s ear. 

“Yeah, but look at the rest of this.”

 

_ Interests: ahdhdjdndukejdkdjakdjfjdksld _

_ Dislikes: awesftgvyujjiihbrfbewsaqa _

_ Type: Small, clever, unconventional. _

_ Preference: Humans, hopefully.  _

 

“Well, his type is pretty spot-on.” Lance offered, shifting further back and pulling his gameboy out of his pocket. 

“How do we know this is a ‘him’, and not a bo--oh, it's refreshing.”

Even as Pidge spoke, the page buffered, and some of the previous garble was replaced with real text. 

 

_ Interests: Chemistry, Sculpting, Theories, Design.  _

_ Dislikes: Probability-based math, being forced to dance at black-tie events, business partners who shame their partners into getting a date. _

 

“Yikes. That's bitter.” Hunk commented, squatting behind the bean bag and reading over Pidge’s other shoulder. 

“I think it's supposed to be a joke. Are there any other pictures?”

“No, it's just the one.” They gestured to the thumbnail-sized photo of a younger man with dark hair in a light gray suit. The page buffered again, and four more photos filled the previously-empty gallery. “Or I spoke too soon.” 

Pidge pushed their glasses further up their nose, clicking on the first one. 

 

Lance snorted, and began to laugh. 

“Oh, Pidge,  _ please  _ accept this guy’s offer!”

Pidge made a face. 

Takashi Shirogane was leaned up casually against an honest-to-goodness  _ lioness _ , who curled around him as if asleep. He had his arms slung over her shoulders, and his legs were pulled up comfortably, but he had the dorkiest, most terrified look on his face, like  _ this is a real life lioness and I'm terrified, please get me away from this _ . 

“I'll admit, that's pretty terrible.” Pidge offered, but they were moving to the next picture anyway. 

The guy was taking a selfie on a pier, only managing to catch his shoulders and above, wearing sunglasses and what looked like a graphic tee with the sleeves ripped off. His smile was kind, and genuine, but sort of fatherly. He seemed to feel much older than he looked. 

“That one’s not too bad, except that he kinda looks like a rich douche.” Hunk commented, leaning back and brushing his hand through his hair.

“He’s on a sugar daddy website. He probably  _ is  _ a rich douche.” Lance shot back. 

“I thought you wanted me to like this guy?” Pidge inquired playfully. “Why are you so skeptical?”

“Because there are very few people on this planet good enough for you, Pidgey.” Lance cooed. 

“You're right, I would much rather date an alien.” They laughed, but still partially serious. 

“Well, it’s way more than minimum wage.” Hunk interjected. “If you need the cash, it doesn't really matter what he's like. What're you thinking, Pidge?”

They didn't answer; they didn't need to. 

 

Pidge returned to their inbox. 

They took a deep breath. It was just a job, right? A single night of faking being in a real relationship; nothing more. 

They accepted the request. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mkay so Pidge isn't actually ace in this work but they have a lot of reasons for avoiding relationships. Do y'all want angst????? bc you might get some.


	5. Chapter 5

Pidge took a deep breath. 

They looked in their reflection, frowning deeply. 

Since when had they  _ ever  _ been so concerned with their physical appearance? 

The fashion designers did that for them enough; they had never concerned themselves with their face. 

But now, looking in the mirror, they could only see people they were not. 

They thought of Matt, and suddenly ripped their glasses off with an angry sound. 

It was better, with the blurry sight, they thought, and left their glasses on the shelf their mirror rested on. 

They opened their computer, and with another deep breath, selected  _ Takashi Shirogane _ in their contact list. 

  
  


Shiro took a deep breath. 

He looked into his mirror, and frowned. 

Since when had he been so self-conscious about his eyeliner?

He loved his cat eyes; it was part of his trademark, but now, they felt like too much. 

He didn't want to scare Pidge away by being too much; he hadn't made any backup plans, and had already told Allura he found someone. 

He checked his watch. 

It was too late to take his makeup off, anyway. 

He dropped into his seat at his desk, pulling his collar straight, and waited. 

Pidge had said they would call him, at six o’clock sharp, and he had a good five minutes before then. 

 

He glanced over to the side of his office not shown by his webcam, where his moulds were stacked neatly, bottles of chemicals clearly labeled, all current orders boxed. He still couldn't understand how their business got invited to this thing, anyway.

 

_ Brrrzt! _

 

Shiro actually yelped from surprise, before recovering as quickly as possible and accepting the incoming call. 

 

There was a short burst of static, and Pidge was squinting on his screen. 

 

“H-Hello.” 

 

Shiro smiled nervously. 

 

They were simply  _ precious _ . Their cheeks were slightly puffy, and they looked tired, like a normal college student, but it was only a relief to Shiro, because that meant that they were real. Their smile was slightly lopsided, but genuine, and their thin shoulders and neck drowned in the high collar of their sweater. Their hair was fluffy, and cut in a sort of pseudo-mullet with longer face framing. 

“Hi.” 

Pidge responded, voice slightly shaky. 

Shiro bit back a grin at how well their voice fit them. 

 

Oh, no. 

 

_ What was that feeling in his stomach _ ?

  
  
  


Pidge smiled as wide as they could, hoping their disappointment wasn't too obvious. 

 

This guy had obviously catfished them. 

 

Though the most they could hope to make out was little more than blurry shapes, the man had grayish-whitish hair, an old man’s hair, and something pinkish along his face that looked like a tattoo of some sort. He had dark blobs around the corners of his eyes--wrinkles?--and was wearing some kind of one-sleeved shirt, his left arm some sort of gray. 

 

“So...uh…”

He laughed, and his voice was soothing, calm, ageless. 

_ At least there's that _ , Pidge thought. “...I’m, uh, fairly new to this whole thing.” He finished, shifting around the screen. 

Pidge made a short, amused sound before responding. 

“I am too, so...I don't think I'll be very helpful.” 

They pulled their knees up to their chest, trying to keep calm. They were beginning to regret this.

 

Shiro’s smile strained. Pidge didn't seem totally involved. He glanced down, pulling his shirt taught so the logo was more visible. 

 

“So, uhm, you're in college, right? Are you a freshman? What are you studying?”

 

Pidge laughed, a goofy sort of chuckle. 

 

“I'm about to graduate the four-year program. I've only got two months left until my finals.”

 

“I thought you were nineteen!”

 

Pidge squinted. 

“I am. I was able to skip most of the classes; I've already got an internship set up at NASA, and I'll be taking on the aeronautics program when I come back.”

 

They brushed their hair back sleepily, and Shiro could only stare. 

“That's  _ incredible _ !”

 

Pidge flushed slightly. 

 

“I--I could've done more, you know. I almost went straight into the young astronauts program, but I didn't think I was ready, and besides that, I was too short, and it didn't even matter, ‘cause now, my eyesight’s gotten worse, and if it gets any worse than it already is, I may not be able to even make it to the simulations, much less space.”

 

Pidge suddenly bit their lip. They’d been talking too much, again, and this guy wasn't answering. Why should he care about any of that stuff, anyway?

 

“You want to be an astronaut?”

 

He asked softly. 

 

Pidge perked suddenly. 

 

“Yeah! I love space, and I just--I love exploring, learning new things, making new things. It--it’s kind of a passion of mine…”

 

They dropped their head suddenly, pulling a bit of hair into their face. 

 

Takashi Shirogane laughed encouragingly. 

 

“I'm like that, too, sort of. I like finding solutions to things I don't always think about. And I really love the night sky...stars and colors, all that. I took astronomy in high school, but, uh… I never really went to college. My business partner and I had already started our business as soon as we were old enough, and there wasn't ever a need to. That's incredible, what you've done. It really is!” 

Pidge couldn't tell, but they were pretty sure he was grinning. He didn't  _ sound  _ like a predator or some creepy old dude. He didn't sound exactly like someone who was desperate to fake date someone, either. 

 

Shiro cleared his throat again. “So, uh, you said something about your eyesight. Do you have contacts, or..?”

 

“Oh! Oh, no.” Pidge laughed. “I'm just about completely blind without my glasses, and they don't even make contacts for my prescription.”

 

“Wait, so...are you completely blind right now?”

 

Pidge flushed slightly. 

“Uhm...yes...ehehe…”

They giggled nervously, brushing their bangs away from their face. “...most of my old modeling jobs didn't like my glasses, so I've gotten pretty good at walking around without them.”

 

“Well, what the heck are you doin’? I'm not a photographer, you should be able to see just fine! It's okay to wear glasses, you know.”

 

Shiro fussed internally. What was their self-esteem really like, if they were nervous to even wear glasses?

 

Pidge bit their lip, but reached offscreen anyway. They came back, pushing their glasses onto their face. 

 

They stared. They stared and blinked and stared, and their face flooded red. 

 

_ He was hot. Oh Stars, he was attractive.  _

 

His hair wasn't graying; the top of it was bleached white, and he had perfectly pointed eyeliner wings sharp enough to pierce Pidge’s weak heart. He wasn't wearing a half-sleeved shirt; his arm was prosthetic, and an incredible one, at that. It seemed to be fully articulated, which Pidge had done their research on; bionic limbs like that climbed into the tens of thousands, and were incredibly hard to come by. He had a scar across his nose, a silvery sort of pink, and his smile was gentle and patient, his eyes bright and wondering. 

 

Pidge grinned stupidly. 

 

“Wow.” 

 

They said before they could stop themselves, and then crushed their hands over their mouth, flushing deeper. 

 

Takashi Shirogane laughed; he wasn't totally aware of what was going on, though he certainly was a fan of how Pidge’s eyes seemed to sparkle in curiosity. 

“Is that better?” He asked playfully. Pidge nodded with another crooked smile. 

“I always forget how blind I am until I can see again.” They admitted. 

 

_ God, they were adorable.  _

 

Shiro watched as they took in their screen with an almost greedy concentration, looking over every detail with clever and sharp eyes, sort of feline in nature. Their glasses were round and huge, sort of hipster and nerdy in one, and with their pointed features, softened their face just enough. The way they talked about learning and their hopes for the future was laced with determination, a kind of wistfulness and force that made him wish he had gone to college too. 

 

“Your arm, is it totally bionic?” They asked, a glimmer in their eye. 

 

Shiro laughed, lifting it so they could get a better view. 

“Yeah, it's wired right into what's left of the vessels and nerves and all that, it moves as well as an organic limb, but without any of the pain receptors. It's a little miracle, really.” 

 

Pidge’s nerdiness was short-circuiting. There were a million more questions running through their head, but they bit them back. He certainly wasn't on a sugar daddy website to answer questions about his prosthetic. 

 

“So, um, ab--about the event you're looking for someone for…” they changed the subject gently. “...you said you were hoping for someone who can dance? What kind of dancing?”

“Oh, I actually don't know. I've never been to a gala like this before, but I assume it'll be ballroom. I haven't the slightest clue how to dance in any way, so if you don't know either, I'm sure that’s al-”

“-Oh, ballroom? Modern or Traditional? I know both.” Pidge adjusted, pulling their legs into the seat with them. 

“I--I have no clue. Whichever would be easier for you to teach. I can pay you more, if you'll teach me how to dance.” 

Pidge smiled.

“My dad actually taught me both. He also taught me how to do all the fancy stuff; eating at a long table, dressing formally for different occasions, cufflinks and neckties and bow ties, all that. Speaking of, what kind of dress are you looking for from me?”

Shiro made a soft sound in his throat as he thought. 

“Oh...the invitation said black-tie--I’ll pay for your clothes, if you like--would you rather wear a dress or a suit? I'm going to wear a suit, and honestly I've only got one good tie, but if we can coordinate, I think that'd be great.”

 

_ Is this their way of saying they’ll come with me? _

 

“I'll wear whatever you want. The only thing I’ll ask is that you don't make me wear heels; I know I'm small, but heels just--” 

Pidge made a face, sticking their tongue out. Shiro laughed. 

“Thank  _ god _ , I'm tall enough to get away with not needing heels! I tried once, just once, and--oh, man. It was awful!”

Pidge smiled softly. 

“Did you break a heel?”

“I broke my nose!”

Pidge snorted suddenly, their head jerking forward as they laughed. 

“ _ W-what?! _ ”

They snaffled, trying to hide their mouth behind a hand.

Shiro gestured to the mark on his face. 

“My business partner, she wears heels that are, like, five inches, and she thought it would be funny if we made a calendar wearing each other’s clothes, and I had on these huge heels, and this maxi skirt, and I tried to take a single step, and--bam! Right into the corner of a table. I absolutely ruined her shirt, got blood everywhere--I laugh about it now, ‘cause it is really funny, but oh  _ man _ . It was ugly.”

Shiro crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair and reminisced, laughing in good nature. 

“Sounds like something worth remembering.” Pidge agreed as their laughing subsided. “So, this event is on Friday, right?”

Shiro short-circuited for a second. 

“Y-yeah, it starts at seven. I can pick you up, too.”

“It’s okay, if you send me the address. I’d rather get myself there.” 

Shiro nodded. 

“I’ll send you the address if you let me get my partner to get your outfit together.” He slid in slyly. Pidge caught on, and laughed. 

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Shirogane.”

Shiro made a sound like he was going to throw up.

“ _ Please,  _ never call me that! Everyone calls me Shiro.”

Pidge was silent for a few moments--this guy was terrible at being a sugar daddy, which was probably good for them--but then leaned forward and nodded.

“Guess I’ll see you then, Shiro.”

Their voice started to waver as what they were about to do settled in.

  
They hung up before they could dwell on it any longer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuties r nervous for their 'date'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the dead with new chapter* I'm making cosplays and trying to get sponsored let me live

“Pidge, you can  _ not  _ wear the titty kitty on this date.”

“Why not?” They pouted, looking first up at Lance, and then down to their shirt to see that, sure enough, the cat-shaped hole in their bra was visible through their t-shirt. 

“It gives you zero support, Pidgeon.”

“It gives me moral support.” They argued back, crossing their arms over their chest. Lance gave a dramatic sigh and stepped all the way into Pidge’s bedroom, ducking the fairy lights that hung from their ceiling. 

“You've got t-minus one hour until you have to be out of here, and you didn't do any makeup, your hair doesn't even look  _ brushed _ , you're sitting around in fandom sweatpants, and--good lord, have you even exfoliated today?”

Pidge glanced down at themselves. Slytherin sweatpants. Check.  _ Don't bro me if you don't know me _ t-shirt. Check. Unbrushed hair. Check. Exfoliated?

“Hey, I did the whole skin routine this morning. Toner and all. Besides that, you're wearing your  _ Feed me and tell me I'm pretty _ shirt you stole from that one shoot, are you really going to judge my pants?”

“I don't know, I'm not about to be a sugar baby. Let me take care of this. What does the outfit even look like?”

Pidge looked at Lance with a raised eyebrow, the beginning of a pout, but pushed themselves away from their desk anyway. Using their wheely chair, they scooted across their room to the closet, where they pulled a dress bag down and tossed it on the bed. 

Lance unzipped it, and actually gasped out loud. 

“Christ, are you getting  _ married _ ?!”

Pidge looked away, flushing deeply. 

The suit was perfect. It was a dark payne’s gray, but was fitted closer at the waist and hips, and flared out at the ankles. There were tiny gemstones stitched in at the flared ankles, sort of like stars, and it had come with a white shirt with a ruffled collar that filled most of the space open in the suit’s chest, and a small green handkerchief folded into the pocket in a diamond shape. 

The cuff links were tiny alien heads, cast out of sterling silver. 

The shoes were a cross between ballet flats and oxfords, with a rounded front and low top, but intricate side-stitching and strong grips. 

There was also a small set of earrings, tiny posts that were made of Alexandrite, purple in the sun and green in cooler light. 

The entire outfit was perfect; Pidge had been so shocked that they were scared to even touch the fabric at first, and then the sickness had set in as they realized what they had done to get this suit, and they had felt so sick with their own manipulative emotions that they had left the suit in its bag all the way up until now. 

And now Lance was trying to drag them out of their chair, threatening to call Hunk. 

“I'll make him hold you down, I swear I will! I’ll be damned if I let you go anywhere in this outfit without being on its level!”

“Lance, let go! I can dress myself, get off!”

They shoved in vain, knowing Lance wouldn't let go until he was ready to. 

“I know you can dress yourself, but you can't style to save your life!”

“Shut up!”

Pidge gave a well-timed twisting pull and jerked out of Lance’s grip. They pushed their hair out of their face, messier now more than ever, and pushed their glasses up. “I can do my own makeup and hair, okay?”

“But I want to heeeeeeeelp!” Lance whined, dropping into the abandoned office chair. 

 

Pidge didn't want help. They didn't even want to do this, not anymore, but they couldn't chicken out, not now. 

And Lance could be quite distracting. 

“I'll let you do my hair. But please, go subtle; I'm there to look like a date, not a prostitute.” 

They pulled their shirt over their head and Lance threw their binder at them, already clambering over the mess of the room to the bathroom. 

Pidge heard him digging through drawers, depositing things onto the counter, and groaned. 

They were going to regret this. 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Shiro? Christ, we have almost three hours! What are you doing?”

“My makeup.” Shiro responded innocently, glancing at Allura’s half-brushed hair in the reflection. He was bent forward over the sink, holding the cap to his eyeliner pencil in his teeth. 

He was already in his suit, hair straightened back, prosthetic polished, and Allura wrapped her ratty hoodie tighter around herself. 

“I've never seen you wear a  _ button-up shirt  _ in your life without giving hell for it. Why are you completely ready?”

“I don't know? I got nervous, I guess.”

Shiro felt a pressure on the back of his shoulder as Allura leaned in, a cloying smile on her face. 

“Nervous about your  _ date _ ?”

Shiro’s mouth tightened, and he finished his eyeliner sweep instead of respond. Allura chuckled self-satisfactorily. “When are you even gonna show me a picture? They better be amazing, if you're this nervous.”

“They're  _ perfect _ .” Shiro said before he could help himself. “I--I mean, I meant-”

“- _ Perfect _ ? That's a tall order for Mister Doesn't-Need-A-Date. I thought you just picked up some hussy off the street ‘cause you wouldn't look for a serious relationship!”

“I'm  _ not _ looking for anything serious.” Shiro insisted, capping his eyeliner. “You told me to find a date, so I did. And they're very attractive. And intelligent.”

Allura made a short sound, like she didn't totally believe him but wouldn't argue. 

“You spend your entire life making shit you have no interest in using. I just don't get you.”

“You don't have to. I'm happy where I'm at, Allura; you don't have to be, but I want to be.” 

She shrugged, lifting her weight from Shiro’s shoulder.

“Don't forget your setting spray, I guess.”

The door squeaked shut. 

Shiro looked back into the mirror, and squared his shoulders. 

He wasn't ready for this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I???? WON A COSPLAY COMPETITION LAST MONTH AS CIEL PHANTOMHIVE!!!!!
> 
> no dead serious i went to jafax as ciel and my friend was sebastian and i ended up winning the cosplay competition
> 
> my instagram is @lastlifecreatons and you can go check out my page for pictures
> 
> anyway i'm still shook but here's a chapter update  
> ~~~~

It was a goddamn red carpet. 

Of course it was. 

Pidge was perched behind a lamppost, peeking around the side and watching the entrance to the grand plaza this ceremony thing was supposed to be held in. 

There were  _ paparazzi _ .  _ Real life paparazzi.  _

_ Oh Stars,  _ Pidge thought,  _ what if someone recognizes me from the underwear magazines? _

They nervously pulled on the green square in their pocket, trying their hardest not to rub their eyes. 

Lance hadn't done much at all--shaped their eyebrows, textured their hair, and used some basic makeup--but he had insisted that they not touch anything he had used setting spray on. Which was everything. 

Another car pulled up to the walkway between the paparazzi and Pidge couldn't even make out what they looked like before the person was drowned by the swarm of camera flashes. 

A motorcycle’s loud engine came tearing down the street, swinging into an open meter recklessly and cutting to silence. 

Pidge fought a giggle as they looked over the bike--who still thought flames were cool?--when they realized the rider had pulled his helmet off, and was watching them. 

He had dark, messy, fluffy hair and an almost-gaunt complexion, a well-tailored suit with a dark red tie hastily being tucked back into place. He looked Pidge up and down before leaning over his helmet in his lap. 

“Hey.” He said, after several moments of observation. 

“Um...hello.” Pidge responded softly. They suddenly felt like too much, in a suit too fancy for them on a street they had no business standing around on, and they wanted to wither up like a dry plant under this kid’s glare. He really couldn't be much older than them, if he wasn't the same age. 

“It's Pidge, right? Like Pidgeon?”

“I--I--Yes.” Pidge stammered, caught by surprise. 

The kid on the bike nodded flatly. 

“Cool. I'll let Shiro know I found you.”

“O-oh, you know...Shiro?”

The kid paused, having leaned back in his seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

“He's my brother, man. Wouldn't be here if he wasn't.” He responded stiffly, back to his phone as soon as he finished speaking. “I have no idea where either of them are--Allura told me she was showing up separately, she hates valet, but I didn't hear anything from Shiro, so I assumed he was going to call up someone, but he didn't actually have an ETA.”

Pidge nodded like they knew what the hell he was talking about, and fiddled uselessly with their cufflinks. Their hands just  _ needed  _ something to do. 

The kid noticed, of course he did, and nodded towards their wrists. 

“You like space?”

“I love it.” Pidge responded quickly, breathlessly. 

“ _ That _ explains why he started casting so many galaxy-style molds. Greens and purples, flecks of glitter--it's actually really cool.” 

Again, Pidge nodded like they knew what he was talking about. It seemed to work; he chewed the inside of his lip, but gave them a half-approving look. “How did you meet Shiro, anyway? He hardly ever leaves their little basement lab, and he  _ certainly  _ isn't looking for anyone.”

“O-oh, yeah...hehe, uh…”

_ He said he needed a fake date; did he tell his brother he had a legit date, too, or can I be the legit one here? _

“Aiy! Keith! Glad you found it okay.”

Pidge was saved by a familiar voice calling from across the street. 

Their knees went weak. 

Shiro was standing tall, remarkably relaxed, looking down the street. 

Pidge fought the urge to run away. He was wearing a jet-black suit with crystals at the wrists, mirroring the ones around their ankles, and his tie was purplish-pinkish-greenish space, with a reflective black lioness imprinted on the front of it. His eyes moved from the kid (Keith?) to them, and his face froze. 

 

Shiro’s chest trembled. Pidge was standing behind Keith on the street, watching him the way a cat assessed a dangerous situation. He could almost  _ see  _ a tail whipping back and forth. 

The suit was stunning on them. He felt his jaw working just to stay where it was. The curve of their hips fed right into the starlike crystals bleeding down to the mock-galaxy at their ankles, yet the way they stood was so...intelligent. Could one even describe how a person stood as being intelligent? Would inquisitive have been a better word?

He didn't know, and he didn't care, and he was crossing the street before he knew what he was supposed to think.

He lost his momentum as he was about to step onto the sidewalk, and leaned away quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck. He didn't want to scare them off.

_ Pidge is a person, not a stray cat,  _ he thought.  _ Keep it together, dummy. _

He smiled easily and stepped up onto the sidewalk, coming to face them. 

Wow, he knew they were small, but they barely came above his waist! He took a step back just so he felt like he could see them okay. 

“Good evening, Pidge. You found it okay?” 

_ Shit, that was stupid, too formal, then too casual, you're a mess, what were you thinking-- _

“And to you, too, Shiro. It was right where you said it’d be; how was your day?”

_ Oh, stars, this is awkward, he's looking at me funny, and how can someone be so tall?! This was a mistake, I can't do this-- _

“Quite honestly, my day has drastically improved, now that I'm seeing you.” Shiro smiled before a heavy flush fell over his face. 

_ I shouldn't have said that, it was way too honest, they're not actually dating you _ \--

“Oh! I--I--” 

Pidge laughed bashfully, a little red dusting across their cheeks. They twiddled nervously with their cuff links again. 

Keith cleared his throat loudly, ignoring the disapproving look Shiro shot at him. 

“Riiight, well, it was good to finally meet you, Pidge, but I should probably go find Allura. See you in there?”

He swung his leg off his bike, pressing quarters into the parking meter. 

Shiro nodded. 

“See you in there. On your best behavior, right?” 

Keith laughed half-seriously. 

“We’re going to find out.” He responded flatly, before jogging away into the street.

Pidge and Shiro both sighed heavily as soon as Keith was out of earshot. 

And then they looked at one another, and burst out laughing so hard that some of the paparazzi actually turned to look all the way down the street. 

“I guess that tells me what I'm up against!” Pidge laughed, finally letting go of their cufflinks. 

“I--I cannot tell you how happy I am that I found you.” Shiro said as he came down from the laughter-high, still flushed. Not even he was sure if he meant just then, or in general. 

“I get the feeling we should've planned this through a little more.” Pidge responded, and Shiro immediately agreed. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't want either of you to meet each other that way...though, now that I think on it, I'm not sure what would have been better. But you're right, we probably should have a plan.”

Pidge nodded thoughtfully. 

“Well, how about...I ask you a question, and you ask me one?” They offered, glancing up at Shiro just long enough to see him nod before looking away. “Alrighty, uh...how serious is the relationship you want to fabricate?”

Shiro watched them push their glasses awkwardly back up their nose, their fingernails very short but neatly--recently--filed. 

“Let’s say it's not very, but just enough to justify bringing you along...uh, what's your comfort zone for physical contact?” 

_ Wait, that sounded perverted, didn't it? _

“You mean, like, in a public relationship?.. I don't know, probably...well, in all honesty, you've got full permission to do just about whatever, I trust you for that, and it's not like there's a lot you could do to make me uncomfortable...I was a model, you know. You get used to hands everywhere after something like that.” Pidge ended with a laugh. 

Shiro gave another nod, and stepped forward. 

_ Good god, I feel like an awkward middle-schooler trying to flirt again.  _

“So...something like this…” He tucked his hand around their waist, holding them loosely to his side, “...would this be okay? Never be afraid to tell me no, alright?”

Pidge flushed deeply, and their hand rested on top of his for just a moment before pulling away and nodding messily. 

“That's fine.” They said hurriedly, breathily. “And the same for you. But I think that if we stick together, it’ll be fine.”

_ Why am I trying to comfort him? He does these things all the time, why on earth would I need to-- _

“Excellent. In all reality, I'm not ready to do this, but...ready to go in?” Shiro asked, hand still around Pidge, adjusting his tie with the other. 

Pidge grinned, a lopsided and goofy yet still somehow bolstering thing. 

“Not at all. Let's do it.” They said. 

And together, they marched awkwardly forward. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's what I'm going to do.
> 
> I thought for a long time about how I feel about my work here, so this is what I determined:
> 
> I'll update two of my pieces a month, whichever two I can work on the most.   
> However, every time a comment is left on those works, it'll push the next chapter's release date forward by a day, BUT, if I get any comments simply asking for updates, without anything actually relating back to the work, or any form of shallow spam-related content, the update day gets pushed back by a week. I love posting stuff, and I love hearing from you guys, but y'all, asking for another update within an hour of the last update just isn't cool, and shows very little actual appreciation for the work itself, including how much work I put into the works.

Shiro’s phone had yet to go off; was Allura still not here? 

_ No, Keith probably just dragged her inside,  _ he thought,  _ he would want to be out of the cameras ASAP.  _

“Oh, shit.” He whispered. “I didn't think about paparazzi.”

Pidge suddenly swung his hand away from their hip and locked arms with him. 

“This'll probably look better for casual.” They responded, and Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. They were right, of course they were, but it didn't help the waves of panic that came with camera flashes that weren't even on him yet. 

Pidge’s heart pounded, and they hoped that changing Shiro’s hand meant he couldn't feel that. The lights were  _ everywhere _ , and while they had been accustomed to camera flashes, they weren't accustomed to the sheer amount of people. But Shiro standing next to them felt somehow so comforting, like there was someone else there to take the brunt of the attention, someone who was probably used to it.

“”Mr. Shirogane!””

“Takashi, over here!”

“Who's this?”

“Both of you, look this way!”

 

Guessing by the clamor of voices as they stepped nearer, Shiro was  _ very _ accustomed to this. So Pidge just smiled, leaned against Shiro’s arm, and let him lead. 

 

Pidge’s weight on Shiro’s arm was the only thing holding him to earth.

_ Why are there so many people? How do they all know my name? _

“Shiro! There you are!”

_ Allura _ .

 

Shiro’s business partner stood almost at the door, smiling glamorously for the cameras like it was something she was born to do, floating back towards Shiro and dragging Keith by the elbow.

Her long, white hair had been braided up almost to resemble a crown, a few loose curls near her face, and she was wearing a white-and-blue mermaid style dress with pale pink jewelry, most notably a necklace with the same lioness logo as Shiro’s tie.

With mammoth heels hiding under her skirt, she was almost as tall as Shiro, easily making him feel close to something, someone, real.

She saw the panic in his eyes, and, in front of all the cameras, reached out and hugged him.

Keith crossed his arms, glaring from lens to lens, and peeked around his brother and date to see Pidge smiling nervously, but somehow with such practiced confidence that it looked effortless.

_ Well,  _ he thought,  _ if they can do it, I can do it _ , and he smiled awkwardly.

 

Allura and Shiro disengaged, each linking arms with their respective dates again, and Allura chatted easily, dragging them inside with her conversation.

Someone opened the doors for them, and then they were utterly away from the blinding flashes and clamoring voices, plunged into dim lighting and faint string music.

Pidge gripped Shiro’s arm tighter out of reflex, trying to orient themselves, and Shiro breathed a sigh of relief.

“God, I always forget how much I hate cameras.” He admitted breathlessly, and Allura laughed. 

“You did much better this time than the last! And, how rude of you, you haven't introduced your lovely  _ daaaate _ !”

Allura clasped her hands together under her chin, batting her eyelashes daintily, and Shiro laughed.

“Well, uh, this is Pidge. Pidge, this is my business partner, Allura...she's, uh, she’s amazing at just about everything she does.”

“Oh, you flatterer.” Allura remarked, grabbing Pidge by the wrists and pulling them closer.

They glanced nervously back at Shiro, who smiled encouragingly, and relaxed slightly.

“It's nice to meet you.” Pidge greeted calmly, but honestly.

Allura grinned.

“I ordered this outfit for you, though I'm sure you know that by now, and oh, it looks so good on you! Oh, I'm so glad Shiro actually found someone, and you look so cute by his side, I-”

“-Allura!” Shiro interrupted sharply, resting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, as if to keep them safe. 

“You’ll overwhelm them, really.”

Pidge took a grateful step back, finally able to take in their new surroundings.

It was a ballroom, definitely, but there were two curved staircases coming down along the sides, and the gentle strings they’d heard were a quartet sitting alone amongst a sea of chairs on a medium-sized platform. There was a balcony above, with most of the people in the space heading up to it and then to what looked like a huge dining room beyond, an ornate crystal chandelier sending down a cascade of shimmering catch-lights on the polished ballroom floor.

There were a few smaller tables on the first floor, with several vested people carting trays of drinks, and Pidge suddenly realized a problem.

They tugged on Shiro’s sleeve discreetly, and as soon as Allura had turned her attention back to Keith, he leaned in.

“Is everything okay? How are you doing?” He asked softly, honestly.

Pidge was taken aback by this.

_ Does he seriously care that much? _

“I-I’m not old enough to drink.” They stammered. “And I'm not supposed to mix alcohol with my medications anyway. I can't drink.”

Shiro smiled softly, reassuring, and Pidge wanted to  _ melt _ .

“No worries, I don't drink either, actually. Just, hah, keep an eye out for Allura.”

“An eye out for me,  _ why _ ?” Allura cut in, eyebrows raised.

Shiro straightened, poking her in the ribs playfully.

“Because you drink enough for all of us. Come on, let's go find our table.” Glancing down at Pidge, he slid his arm around their waist carefully, noting that they flushed slightly, but in no way seemed uncomfortable.

_ Why am I doing this? Why would I think anyone would be comfortable here? _

Allura made a short sound, but seemed unwilling to disagree.

She didn't touch Keith, and he appeared grateful for that.

Pidge resisted the urge to tuck into Shiro’s side as they began climbing the stairs; it felt like everyone was staring at them, and they didn't belong. They sirted closer to Shiro nervously, and looked away when he glanced down.

_ They’re so sweet; at least they make a very good distraction. _

“How on earth are you keeping up with him, Pidge? Shiro’s almost twice your height!” Allura laughed, a champagne glass already in hand.

_ Where did she even get that? _

Shiro shot Allura a dangerous look, but she didn't see. It wouldn't have mattered; Allura was too much of a vivacious person to care for his ‘grump’.

He left his hands on Pidge, who didn't mind at all.

Thankfully, nobody inside seemed to really notice Shiro and Allura, much less their dates; their table was against a wall, considerably far away from the stage and podium (and center of attention), yet Shiro and Allura shared a nervous glance about as subtle as the  _ live betta fish _ in the bowl at the center of the table.

“Aww, hi, little fishy!” Pidge cooed excitedly, bent at the waist, and Shiro, taken by surprise, laughed before he caught himself.

_ God, that was cute. _

Pidge flushed, clearing their throat, and straightened awkwardly. “Er...sorry, I-”

“-Pidge, do you know I love you already?” Allura asked teasingly as she sat down. “Like, really, I want to be your best friend.”

Pidge flushed deeper, a nervous little laugh, and Shiro pulled their seat out for them. 

“Thank you.” They told him softly as he pushed them in, taking the seat between Allura and them, “And I'm flattered, Allura. You're very kind.” 

Allura smiled warmly, popping an elbow up onto the table and resting her chin on her hand. Keith took the seat next to her quietly. 

“Shiro mentioned that space is kinda your thing, have you been helping him with the new designs?”

“‘New designs’? I...I don't know what they are, so I guess not.” Pidge responded, as casually as Allura had asked. Shiro seemed to stiffen suddenly, leaning forward and attempting to reach to the other side of the vase with the fish in it. 

“Who are we sharing our table with? There's four more seats.” He changed the subject, though he regretted it as Pidge reached out and took the name card for him. 

“So...one side is ‘Lion’s Den Toys’, and the other is…’Pure Snow Productions’. Which one is us?”

_ Shit, Allura, please don't- _

“Wait, Shiro hasn't told you?” Allura asked incredulously, Keith shooting a suspicious look to Shiro as he looked deliberately away. 

“Allura, it wasn't really-”

“-We’re Lion’s Den, Pidge.”

“Oh, you make toys? That's really neat!”

Keith snickered quietly. Shiro wanted to sink into the floor.

_ God, they're too innocent for this, don't make me- _

“Well, Shiro is mostly responsible for the artistic side, actually making products. I do most of the business, negotiations and store deals, and we both run the online store.”

Pidge listened eagerly, not understanding. Shiro could see it in the bright glimmer in their eyes.

“I didn't peg you as too much of an artist like that, Shiro. How does marketing work, when your focus groups are little kids?” They asked innocently. 

Keith cackled as Allura’s face fell.

“I--eh--what?” She asked dumbly, cocking her head.

“Pidge, it’s not-”

“-Kid, they make  _ sex toys _ !” Keith finally managed through his crude laughter, and Shiro found himself burying his face in his hands as Pidge’s cheeks turned as red as he had seen them yet.

Pidge sat stock-still, same blank look on their face, though they continued to redden, and glanced up at Shiro, who was now rubbing his temple as Allura kicked Keith under the table.

“Oh, Shiro, you didn't want-”

“-Yeah.” Shiro interrupted Allura, muffled slightly. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't-”

“-Too late.” Shiro interrupted again.

_ God, they must think I'm some dirty pervert, this poor kid, they- _

“But, I mean, it's not like that's bad business.” Pidge said softly, looking up at Shiro encouragingly. “I mean, people are always going to buy that stuff.”

“From our experience, even more than most people think!” Allura laughed, depositing her empty drink on a passing tray and picking up a new one.

“Pidge, what did you say the other side of the table was?”

“Pure Snow Products?” Pidge repeated, turning the card over. “It says the invitee--there's only one, actually--is-”

“-My god, Allura, is it really you?”

Shiro watched the color drain from Allura’s face and began to regret placing Pidge on the outside of the table as a man with hair as long and white as Allura’s sashayed up to the table, placing his hand on Allura’s shoulder with a pointed grin.

“Lotoooor! So...good to see you! I...honestly never thought you would be here!”

Allura cried, voice pitchy, patting the hand on her shoulder awkwardly and seeming relieved when it was taken away. 

Shiro watched Lotor’s gaze skim the group, seeing the dirty smirk he gave Keith before falling to Pidge. 

“Well, am I thankful that you all brought the party! Nobody else could make it on my end, and you've brought some  _ lovely  _ guests! Keith, darling, you're looking as anti-establishment as ever-” Lotor moved away from Keith as his face turned lethal, “-and you...you seem...familiar...though...I don't think I've met you, my dear.” He finished with a purr, gesturing to Pidge. 

They did their best to smile warmly, invitingly, but followed Shiro’s example and did not extend a hand to shake.

_ Oh god, please, don't sit next to them, don't look at them, don't even ask for-- _

“Won't you introduce me, Shiro? It would be so awkward to sit next to someone whose name I don't know!” 

Shiro bit back his instinctive retort and smiled stiffly, politely. 

“This is Pidge. Pidge, this is Lotor, Allura’s...cousin.” 

Allura rolled her eyes, out of Lotor’s sight. Pidge smiled sweetly.

“It's nice to meet you, Lotor.”

“Oh, darling, trust me,”

He slid the seat on their other side out and dropped into it in a single motion. “The pleasure is all mine.”

_ This guy seems...sleazy.  _

Shiro discreetly tucked his foot around the leg of Pidge’s chair, scooting it closer to him and away from the intruder.

Pidge glanced to him nervously as Lotor leaned into their personal space anyway, practically flattening his chest against the table.

“So, how long have you known Pidge, Shiro? He certainly never told  _ me _ he knew such a lovely little thing like you.” Lotor turned to Pidge with the last statement, whose freckles were starting to fade under the threat of blush on their cheeks. 

Allura glowered dangerously over her drink, and Keith crossed his arms. 

“Er, well...really…”

“...Not nearly as long as it feels like, right?” Pidge finished for Shiro. 

_ That was smart.  _

“No, not at all.” He laughed out his relief easily. 

Lotor’s heavy-lidded eyes traced down Pidge’s body invasively, or at least, what of it was above the tablecloth. 

“And...how did you meet?”

“”Online.”” They both said in unison, than glanced to each other, stifling giggles. 

 

_ He's really...he's really not that bad.  _

 

_ They can't be real.  _

 

“Oh,  _ really? _ ” Lotor drawled, propping his head up on his arm, so close into Pidge’s personal space that they could feel his breath on their cheek. “What site?”

“Not any of the ones you're thinking of, Lotor.” Shiro answered, a little sharply. 

Pidge glanced from him to Lotor, clearly confused. 

“What, what, you can't blame me! Not in our line of work…”

“We don't share a line of work, Lotor.” Allura finally interjected, placing her drink deliberately on the table. 

“Well, I certainly use your products in making mine.” Lotor defended innocently. 

Pidge pressed their leg to Shiro’s under the table, a wordless sign of concern.

“Please, Lotor, we’re not here to discuss business, just celebrate it.” Shiro tried, feeling somehow faint at Pidge depending on him. 

“Fine, fine.” Lotor waved his hand carelessly. He looked Pidge over again. “Are we sure we haven't met, my dear? You look  _ so  _ familiar...perhaps we met while you were...less dressed…”

Pidge made a quiet sound, and Shiro glanced down to see their face flush darkly. 

For half a second, he considered that maybe Pidge really did know Lotor, only just recognizing him, but then Allura cut in and Pidge covered their mouth with their hand, looking away, and Shiro shook himself. 

“Honestly, Lotor, are you about to tell me you could forget such a lovely face? How rude you would be…” Allura challenged as she finished off her glass. 

Lotor cleared his throat and retreated. 

“Of course. I never could. No, I'm sure we haven't met, Pidge.” He smiled flashily at them, and they cast their eyes away.

They had to resist the urge to hide against Shiro’s arm, which was almost touching them by how close he had pulled them.

Lotor cleared his throat again as he stood, and left with some muttered excuse of looking for something to drink.

The table sighed as he swaggered out of earshot, and then laughed.

“God, I'll need another drink  _ now  _ if I hope to put up with a night of him.”

Allura scowled, already hailing a waiter. 

“I'm so sorry about that. I didn't know he would even  _ be  _ here, much less sitting at the same table.” Shiro apologized to Pidge, who was still flushing shyly.

They didn't respond immediately.

“I don't film porn.” They finally managed. “I'm guessing that was what he was implying. I model, but I'm not a porn actor.”

“Nobody ever thought you were. Not even he thinks it; he did the same thing to me.” Keith sighed, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them. “He's just looking for shy, wide-hipped, potentially-illegal whitish kids. Like us.” Keith groaned, probably a little loudly as Allura finally got a server to the table and began lifting drinks from his tray, placing them in front of each member of the table.

“Why?” Pidge asked, as innocent as anything. Shiro really hoped his brother wouldn't say something crude, but he knew him too well to expect it. 

“Because people pay more to see kids like that get absolutely wrecked by machines.” Keith answered, which made Allura suddenly choke into her drink. 

Pidge gently nudged their champagne flute back towards Allura, trying not to react to that. Shiro glared at Keith across the table, who shrugged carelessly. 

“The opening address should have been two minutes ago.” Allura commented, glancing at her watch and then the stage at the opposite end of the room. Several people were standing on it, conversing semi-casually.

“Not everyone is here yet.” Shiro offered, gesturing to the empty seats that constituted more than half of the room.

Allura shrugged.

“Eh. We’re really only here because we were invited, anyway; I don't expect we’ll be recognized for anything.”

“I think I prefer that.” Shiro noted.

Keith glanced across the table to Pidge.

“So, you’re in college?” He asked, handing Allura his drink as she finished her own.

“Allura, think about slowing down some, please.”

Shiro tried, knowing it was pointless.

“Yeah, but my year count is kinda irrelevant, because I’ve taken all my classes out of order...are you?”

Keith snorted. 

“I tried. Dropped out. I couldn’t stand any of the professors.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Pidge responded politely, though sweetly. “Do you have any field you want to go into?”

Shiro watched his brother stall, his eyes drifting away, somewhere distant, before he leaned back limply in his seat and dropping his eyes to the tablecloth.

“I like space. Like you.” He finally responded. “Space and machines. I work in a motorcycle garage...but I don’t really know where I want to go.”

“Ah, I have to introduce you to my friend Lance! He’s studying engineering, wants to create spaceships.”

_ Did I just offer to introduce my fake date’s brother to my best friend? _

Keith’s lip twitched slightly up. 

“Sounds cool.”

He responded, before standing awkwardly and walking away. 

Shiro fiddled with the drink in front of him. 

“Did I say something?” Pidge asked quietly. 

“No, babydoll, no, you’re fine! Keith dropped out of college after an accident in the engine shop, he’s just not really over it yet.” Allura promised, totally unperturbed by Shiro’s glare at the pet name she’d dubbed his date. Allura lifted what had been Pidge’s drink into the air, and Shiro briefly considered snatching it away. 

“Allura, are you sure you wouldn’t rather have some water?” He asked instead, calm. Pidge resisted the urge to lean against Shiro’s arm as he moved his hand across the table towards Allura.

Pidge cried out with a jump as something was thrown unexpectedly onto the table in front of them.

Lotor dropped back into his seat triumphantly, slapping his hand down on top of what he’d thrown, and Shiro had grabbed Pidge out of reflex, pulling them close to him so anxiously that he’d pulled them out of their seat. He glanced down at what was on the table, a clothing line catalogue open to its inner front cover, a double-page spread. 

Shiro stared. His throat was suddenly very dry.

“Oh,  _ no… _ ” Pidge whined, hiding their face in their hands. 

Allura leaned over the table and dragged the magazine closer to herself, too fast for Pidge, who had reached out quickly and tried to snatch it away.

“Hey, what’s going--oh…” Keith had returned to the table, confrontational, but leaned over the back of Allura’s chair, staring just as she did.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere, darling!” Lotor hummed gleefully.

Allura slowly lowered the magazine back to the table, looking from the Pidge trying to pull out of Shiro’s grip to the Pidge in the magazine, a Pidge wearing only a pair of underpants, their hair long, curled conveniently over their chest, reclined into the arms of another model, dressed similarly, glossy lips parted slightly, staring seductively into the camera.


End file.
